


realizations

by civillove



Series: plans wrapped in rubber bands [10]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, Protective Rio (Good Girls)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-03-01 01:06:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18789913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/civillove/pseuds/civillove
Summary: Prompt from anon on tumblr: Dean sees firsthand just how much Beth and Rio care about each other--Beth can see his jaw working, barely constrained irritation as he speaks, “Number one, you don't start talkin' to her with a little bit of respect you and I are gonna have a problem.” He drops her wrist then, putting his hand on the hood of the car and angling his body towards their client, “Two, do I look like customer service to you? You don't get to customize your experience, this is the deal, you don't like it you can fuck off.”





	realizations

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt was a little hard to work with but I loved the concept of it, so just keep in mind it’s obviously more Rio and Beth centered with probably more plot than you wanted sprinkled in. I hope I got the gist of your request :) thanks again!   
> Please remember this deviates from the show after 2x09 and follows my series. Thanks for reading!

Beth smiles as she puts the finishing touches on a homemade pizza and slips it into the oven, letting out a satisfied breath before taking her apron off. She’s got a few minutes before Dean shows up with the kids and she wants everything to feel as perfect as it can be, which is why she’s also putting icing on some chocolate cupcakes. She hates to treat this like a big deal and she knows that her kids will probably see right through her but she can’t help it; it feels like it’s been _so long_ that they’ve all been here together in the house again.

Dean’s been…difficult, to say the very least, and he’s finally buckled on her request to bring them all back to the house for dinner together. She hates to say she’s starting to get used to the separation, the give-and-take of not seeing her children all the time and in no way is she saying she wants this to be permanent but at least the despair doesn’t feel like it’s consuming her anymore. It’s also probably for the best; while Dean thinks she’s done with _book club_ she’s been doing small jobs on and off for months since she tried to walk away. Beth tells herself that this distance is safer, that it draws less attention to her work, and allows her to straddle the line of being a mother and being a boss bitch.

She should have known that her decisions would eventually come with consequences because while the past few months have been smooth sailing, the drop she had last night was anything but. She licks her lips, allowing her eyes to close a few moments as she touches her cheekbone where an ugly bruise sits underneath coats of concealer.

Beth knows she’s still learning, but it’s starting to feel like all she’s capable of is making stupid mistakes.

She hears the front door open and rounds the kitchen counter to greet her kids, smiling as she approaches them running in. They’re yelling and tripping over one another and she opens her arms for hugs…and they zoom right past her upstairs, Jane stumbling over her dubby while the boys nearly trample her.

A laugh tumbles out of her mouth, a soft blush kissing her cheeks. “I see I was missed.”

Dean closes the door, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “They were talking about some movies and games they left here, so…priorities I guess.”

Beth shakes her head, a warm and fond sensation coursing through her body at hearing them laugh and carry on with one another upstairs. The silence that often fills the house bothers her sometimes and even though it’s not as much as it used to, she finds herself sleeping with the TV on most nights just to have the comfort of white noise.

“Thanks for bringing them,” She says, turning to go into the kitchen. The pizza in the oven is browning nicely and she takes a moment to rotate it on the rack so it cooks evenly. “Hope pizza is alright.”

Dean nods, walking slowly into the kitchen as he takes a look at the cupcakes on the table, eyes glazing over leftover icing as he sticks his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t seem like he wants to be there and she bites her tongue on telling him that he can leave, that she can spend some time alone with her kids, but she figures that would just make it worse.

His body is tense and the hard lines of his shoulders and spine tell her that he’s uncomfortable, doesn’t trust her, judgement for her past decisions still rolling off of him in waves. That’s when she wants to feel pissed off because if they’re _really_ going to hold past discretions against one other—she’s got a _boatload_ to work with and that’s not even counting the fake cancer that they’ve never really addressed.

But it’s not worth it, in the end, because being angry just makes her tired. It’s exhausting, this thing with Dean, which is why she’s trying her best to just _deal,_ to settle and to make it work as best as possible for the sake of her kids.

She picks up the bowl of icing and puts saran wrap over top, hoping she can save it for another bake sale she has to prep for tomorrow. Before Beth turns again to look at him, before he can even open his mouth, she can feel the air in the room shift. She must be getting pretty good at that, sensing people’s emotions, because that tight line along the back of Dean’s shoulder frays and snaps as he takes a step forward and touches her shoulder.

“ _Beth,_ what happened?”

His fingers flex against her collarbone, he wants to touch her face but they’re not close like that anymore and him stepping into her personal space is already making the hair stand up on her neck. She takes a step back from him and shakes her head, trying to think of something fast because ironically in all the time she spent picturing how tonight would go it didn’t involve explaining the bruise on her face.

Part of her wondered if Dean would even notice.

“It’s nothing,” She says and that’s the _wrong_ thing to come out of her mouth because all of a sudden, just like that, his hackles go up as he conclusion jumps.

“Did he do this to you?”

Beth’s mouth opens so wide it feels like her jaw hits the floor with a resounding _thud._ It takes her a minute to process because of course Dean is talking about Rio and she has to choke on every instinct in her body to react as astonished as she feels because _of course Rio wouldn’t do this._ She bites down, hard, on the inside of her cheek to the point where she tastes blood because defending him won’t work in her favor either. She can see why Dean’s gone to this place, despite the fact that he’s always hated her partner. It's not that Rio isn't violent, because he is, she's seen it with her own eyes. An unbridled anger that feeds something dark inside him. She can hear gunshots echoing in her ears, the way he holds his gun like it's an extension, dangerous like he is. He's made threats, he's grabbed her, he's almost killed her once or twice and somehow it makes sense that he'd never hit her.

“Dean,” She says calmly, “I’m done with all that, remember? I haven’t seen or heard from him in months.” Dean watches her, eyes trailing over her face, as if he’s trying to detect how honest she’s being with him.

But he doesn’t know her, not now and maybe he never really did.

She sighs and rolls her eyes to the ceiling, a laugh stumbling out of her mouth. “If you want to blame someone, blame Annie. She’s the one who doesn’t know how to have _one_ drink and then opens a cabinet too fast looking for Oreos.” She shakes her head and touches her own cheek with a soft wince, “Hit me square in the nose too.”

He stares at her and it takes her a long moment for her to realize that he doesn’t believe it so she knocks herself into plan B by shaking her head, her chin dipping a little.

“Alright, I…I didn’t want to tell you because I’m. I’m embarrassed.”

He puts his hand on his hip, his other leaning against the counter before a soft sigh leaves his lips. “Beth, please.”

She looks up at him and chews on her lower lip. “Someone tried to steal a car the other night at the dealership.”

Dean’s eyes widen, “ _What?”_

Beth nods and scoffs out a sound of mixed frustration and disbelief. “I know. I was leaving later at night because I had paperwork to fill out and…this kid, couldn’t have been older than twenty, came right up behind me and—”

She motions to her cheek and Dean touches her the spot, not thinking about it, thumb brushing over the skin. His hand is softer than Rio’s…and she hates _that’s_ what she’s thinking about as his eyes dance over her jawline, the skin of her neck. “Did you call the police?”

Beth just blinks at him because he should know by now that she can’t do things like that but, “I got my phone out like I was going to. He must have gotten spooked because he ran off.”

There’s a tense moment of silence, Dean’s eyes trailing over the bruise on her cheek that feels even worse under his gaze and he opens his mouth to say something—but the oven beeps and Beth lets out a soft breath before quickly turning to open it up.

“I’m alright, I promise. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you…I just. We haven’t been talking much lately.” She runs her hands down the front of her shirt, nervously smoothing out the fabric. “Pizza’s done.” She smiles gently over her shoulder, grabbing oven mitts to take the pan out before turning the heat off. “Want to call the kids down?”

Dean gives one soft nod before walking to the steps and doing just that. She hears the rumble of a stampede and Beth leans against the counter with her eyes closed a moment to center herself.

She’s not sure if it’s enough for him to believe her but if he doesn’t, it’s not brought up again before the night is over.

\--

If Dean doesn't believe her, he doesn't say anything, at least not yet—he's never been one to come right out and tell her something. If he suspects she’s working again with Rio he'll sit on it, allow it to fester, let it build until he explodes.

But it’s not like she can come right out with what really happened.

After Dean leaves, Beth changes into a pair of comfortable shorts and a loose t-shirt, tying her hair up in a bun to have a glass of bourbon. She’s wiped the makeup off her face, making the bruise a little more prominent, a dark purple splotch along the bone and the smallest cut near her eye socket. She sighs and gets out a bag of peas to wrap in a washcloth and hold to her face; she’s not about to have a swollen cheek and have the PTA moms squawk out a rumor that Dean’s abusive.

Even though this isn’t her fault, it feels like she fucked up again. Two days prior to last night is what set this whole thing off:

_Warez, Beth decides, is a client she doesn’t like…and she’s worked with some seedy people since getting back into business with Rio._

_They’re standing in the back lot of Boland Motors; it’s not exactly raining but there’s a mist blowing around to the point where it’s almost insufferable to be outside. Luckily, she’s put on boots and a rain jacket but she seems to be the only slightly annoyed by the weather. Rio stands closer to their client, inspecting a car that he’s brought in with her help that have drugs hidden behind the airbag._

_Warez is giant, all muscle, same height as Rio but clearly a different build. He looks like the type of guy in this business who doesn’t need backup but he’s got a scrawny dude closer to the back of dealership, leaning against the wall, watching. He must be good with a gun because he looks 200 pounds soaking wet and doesn’t hold a candle to the massive punch she’s sure Warez could throw._

_“How many cars come in per month?”_

_Beth sticks her hands in her pockets, “On a good month we get about ten.”_

_Rio nods in agreement, moving to tug the beanie he’s wearing down over the tops of his ears. Their client clearly wasn’t talking to her and he looks over his shoulder like she’s misspoken before sticking his head through the car window to poke at the airbag compartment. She chews on the inside of her cheek, watching him, a wave of annoyance washing over her and tightening her shoulders like someone stuck a key into her back to wind her up._

_She doesn’t like how Warez talks to her. Or_ looks _at her for that matter, like he’s not quite sure why they’re doing business with a woman despite the fact that she wants to scream that her name’s on the dealership._

_It reminds her so much of Dean that she wants to scream but she digs her heels into the pavement and waits. It’ll be over soon._

_“I want three cars.”_

_Beth doesn’t mean to laugh, really she doesn’t, but a scoff sneaks up out of her throat and both men turn to look at her. She clears her throat, glancing at Rio who holds her gaze for a long moment before nodding his head for her to continue._

_“That’s not how this works. You start with one car, you pay on time, then you get more.”_

_For the time they’ve been meeting, this is the first moment that Warez actually looks angry…though she’s not sure about what, whether because she’s the one addressing him or the fact that he has to prove his worth before he’s given more to work with._

_“This is not how I do business_ , little girl _.” Beth bristles, her arms wrapping around herself. He leans back against the frame of the car, his right pointer finger playing with a ring on his middle down by his side as he speaks, “Maybe you should take a seat and watch how men make deals.”_

_White-hot heat surges in her midsection, boiling under her blood and so suddenly she can’t feel the cool mist of rain against her skin. In fact, she’s so angry, she wouldn’t be surprised if it was rolling off her like steam with contact._

_She takes a step forward, completely content with telling him where to_ shove _his deal, when Rio grabs her forearm. He squeezes, hard, disrupting her train of thought and preventing her from moving. He waits until her gaze meets his own, his thumb moving to trace along the tree of veins on her wrist before he looks over at Warez._

_Beth can see his jaw working, barely constrained irritation as he speaks, “Number one, you don't start talkin' to her with a little bit of respect you and I are gonna have a problem.” He drops her wrist then, putting his hand on the hood of the car and angling his body towards their client, “Two, do I look like customer service to you? You don't get to customize your experience, this is the deal, you don't like it you can fuck off.”_

_Warez’s expression is dark, like a shadow has passed over his features. He takes one look at Rio and glances over his shoulder at Beth before his lip curls up into a sneer and he strides past them with a comment that sounds like_ pathetically soft _before he disappears around the front of the dealership._

_Beth turns to walk to Rio’s car a few feet away, slipping into the passenger seat with a defeated sigh. He gets in a few moments later, taking his beanie off and throwing it into the backseat and starts the car. The engine purrs to life and as she pulls her damp hair into a ponytail, cool air goosebumps the skin on the back of her neck causing her to shiver. Rio licks his lips and turns the heat on, leaning back into his seat, his jaw still working as he chews on his thoughts._

_As much as she hates to say it, “Maybe you should have handled that meeting on your own.”_

_Rio glances at her, his eyes traveling down the front of her body like a map he’s read so many times. “Nah, don’t even worry about it. He’s just pissed that I got three other people just like him lined up to take this deal. We don’t need him.”_

_Beth pulls her hands into her sleeves, watching the rain mist over the front window to create water divots like little streams rushing down the glass._

_“He treated me like a dumb housewife.”_

_She’s not looking at him as she says it but she feels his body move, shift a little to look at her, shoulder leaning back against the seat. He lets out a long sigh and when Beth turns her head in his direction, he’s leaning his elbow on the center console and props his chin in his hand._

_“Sweetheart, you_ are _a housewife.”_

_She glares at him, which only makes him laugh and she hates that the sound of his voice is infectious, pulling at the ends of her mouth as she rolls her eyes._

_“You know what I mean.”_

_“I do,” He agrees, “But you’re actin’ like that’s a bad thing, ma. So what if he underestimates you?” Rio reaches over with his other hand and hooks a finger under her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. Her stomach does a somersault in her torso, slamming up into her ribcage as he drags his thumb along her jawline._

_“That’ll be somethin’ he regrets.”_

Beth takes a sip of her bourbon, letting the cool liquid rush down her throat with an aftertaste that burns. She glances down at the black duffle bag of cash at her feet, something she pulled out of the closet when Dean left. She’s got more business to handle tonight, even though she wants nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep for a few days.

She knows she can’t do that though. Regardless of how comfortable she gets with the work she’s doing, the cash she’s washing, the cars she’s selling…she knows that she can’t stop, that she can’t take a break. That’s not how this whole thing works.

Besides, sometimes she’s even surprised Rio let her _come back_ after she left the first time. She’s not about to test those waters again.

Beth runs a hand over her forehead, grimacing when her fingers drag over the cut on her cheekbone accidently as she curls a loose strand of hair around her ear. She allows her eyes to close for a moment as she recaps last night and hates all she can think about is how it could have gone differently:

_She’s late leaving Boland motors but instead of having a mountain-load of paperwork greet her in the morning, it’s always better for her to crank it out the night before. They’ve got cars to rotate and she’s got to document the new ones that Rio has coming in next week before she figures out who they can sell them to._

_She adjusts a black duffle bag of green rubber-banned cash under her arm as she digs into her purse for her car keys and checks a few things off her mental to-do list, making a note to text Rio to meet and pick up his cut. It’s something she should have noticed sooner but she’s so wrapped up in her thoughts, in carrying the bag of cash close to her chest, of trying to find her keys and a tired ache starting to work it’s way through her bones that by the time she looks up and over her shoulder it’s too late._

_Ironically, she recalls Rio’s voice in her head: “You know, you should really have your keys in your hand—anyone can just drive up.”_

_Beth hears steps on the pavement and the moment her fingers wrap around her car keys, when she lifts her head, something cold and_ hard _cracks across her face. She barely has enough time to react, to catch herself as she’s knocked off balance and falls onto the cold concrete. Oddly, it’s her forearms that hurt first because she hits the ground they take the brunt of it. Her purse gets knocked under the car, her body on top of the black duffle and her vision zeros in on a pair of shoes that are purposely in her personal space so that he’s towering over her._

_It’s when she recognizes it as Warez that her face begins to_ burn _, her cheek throbbing in earnest. She brings her hand up and lets out a sharp noise at the stab of pain a simple touch causes, her ear ringing with how hard he’s hit her. When she draws her fingers back, there’s blood, and his face is bored as he watches her on the ground._

_“Forgot to take off my ring.” He says, but doesn’t sound sorry, instead he smirks and turns the thing on his finger. “You’re going to give me the keys to three cars.”_

_Beth wants to show him that she isn’t scared even though she can feel panic seep through her entire body like ice. He doesn’t have that scrawny bodyguard with him but he’s got an advantage by hitting her out of nowhere and she’s on the ground where it’s easier to overpower her. Her head is spinning, a headache pounding with her heartbeat at the base of her skull._

_Her gut tells her to call Rio, she_ wants _to call Rio but even if she could get to her phone he wouldn’t be able to do anything._

_“The keys are inside.” She says, her mind telling her body to move and yet she’s still lying on the pavement, gravel digging into the soft skin of her palms._

_“Then you better start fucking moving.” He snaps, his foot stomping impatiently like he might kick her and Beth feels her entire body tense, bracing herself for something that doesn’t come._

_As she slowly sits up, her hand reaches underneath the car for her purse. She closes her eyes a moment as her head spins, shaking it off a few moments later to focus her vision on what she needs to do. Keys; she needs her keys to get back into Boland motors and…_

_and her hand curls around the gun Rio’s given her._

_She freezes, the metal cold and comforting in a way she never thought it would be in her hand and against her skin as she thinks one entire moment before quickly pulling it out. She aims it at his head and stands as quickly as she can, dropping the bag and her purse so she can concentrate on one thing._

_And that’s flipping the safety off._

_Warez has the audacity to laugh at her but he does take a step back, his hands slowly raising in front of his chest in mock surrender._

_“Am I supposed to be afraid?”_

_“You think I haven’t shot someone before?” Beth asks and she’s incredibly grateful for the fact that her hands and her voice aren’t shaking. “Take another step forward and find out.”_

_Warez licks his lips and looks down the barrel of the gun, like he’s considering it before he just winks. “Say hi to your partner for me.”_

_And turns on his heel out of the parking lot._

Hindsight always seems 20/20 and once again, that? not completely her fault but she hates how the whole thing made her feel. Powerless, weak, pathetic in a way that digs under her skin and festers there, hot and terrible. It could have been worse and somewhere in the back of her mind she knows that too but it doesn’t stop her from beating herself up about it; about needing to be more aware of her surroundings despite feeling in control.

There’s a knock on the patio door and she sets down her glass of bourbon to open it up; she already knows who it is.

“You’re late.”

Rio’s about to reply with something sarcastic, she can tell in the way his lips twitch into a smirk but then he sees it—the bruise on her cheekbone and all amusement drains from his face. His hand instantly touches her cheek, stepping inside and encroaching in her space until she has to take a step back to let him in.

Beth turns her head, intent on getting his hand to drop but his fingers follow her movement, trying to turn her towards him so he can get a better look. His thumb presses into her jawline and she finally stops squirming, allowing his eyes drink in the ugly purple shades and cut on her skin. She’s not looking at him but the way he’s holding himself tells her he’s pissed, movements of barely contained anger as his hand drops quite suddenly.

He doesn’t speak until her gaze flutters to his and she swallows at what she sees there; his eyes almost black they’re so dark, jaw muscles working as he struggles to get the word out of his mouth,

“Warez.” It’s not a question.

She rubs a hand over her forehead and, “It happened fast.”

“What happened?” His voice is a little raw on the edges, a harsh whisper that usually makes her shiver in a good way. Now? It scares her, just a little, because she knows what Rio is capable of and she’s not sure she wants to tell him.

“It’s not as bad as it looks, it’s just a tiny cut, really—”

“I can see that,” He interrupts, “Elizabeth…” Rio trails off, looking away from her and she can tell that it’s taking him an extreme amount of effort to keep his patience in check. He takes a long breath into his lungs before he tries again, his voice slightly more pinched. “What happened?”

Beth bites on the tip of her tongue before offering a soft nod, “He came back to the dealership, caught me by surprise. Wanted more cars and wasn’t asking.”

That cold and indifferent mask she knows so well, etched into Rio’s skin, suddenly slips on his face because there’s a breath of a smile there…just a moment it clenches her stomach as he nods, says “Okay” and turns to leave.

Sudden panic electrifies her insides and she reaches for him, grabbing him by the bottom of his jean jacket because _no_ this won’t end well. His expression of forced calm hiding unbridled rage is frying her nerve endings because, while she doesn’t know what he’s going to do about this, she knows it isn’t good.

“Rio—”

“Don’t.” He talks over her and with a gentleness she’s amazed he possesses right now, covers her hand with his own to disentangle himself from her grasp. He squeezes her fingers before tipping her chin, taking another look at her cheek. “I need you to stay home tomorrow.”

Beth wants to say no; she’s got a job to do and she’s not going to let Warez of all people stop her from making money but she knows better than to argue with him right now.

“What are you going to do?”

He licks his lips, saying nothing, his thumb brushing the softest touch over the cut on her cheek from Warez’s ring. She winces, can’t help it, and pulls her face away from his hand. His touch falls to her neck and lingers there for a moment before he takes a step back, opening the porch door.

“Get some sleep, yeah?”

And then he’s gone, his cut of the money left behind.

\--

Beth hasn’t heard from Rio all day and while she knows it’s for the best that she stayed home from the dealership today, she can’t help but feel a little stir crazy. Her employees carried on without her, minimal calls and check-ins to ask how she was when she told them she had the flu. Other than that it’s been double checks on requests of customers, car rotations and payments. It’s hard for her to relax, however, because she can’t get a hold of her business partner and part of her worries that Warez is going to figure out where she lives and show up _here_ when he can’t find her at the dealership.

She sighs and wraps a blanket around her shoulders as she sits on the picnic bench in her yard, her bare feet digging into the grass as she holds onto a cup of tea that’s quickly losing heat. She takes a small sip, the liquid running soothingly down her throat, trying to calm her nerves. No news is good news right?

Beth almost wants to send him a text that asks him to call her back, that she’s worried and _annoyed_ he’s not answering her but she knows that won’t do her any good. Rio works on his own time and he certainly replies to her when he feels like it, regardless of the being partners.

She can’t stop her skin from crawling as she thinks about what he’s _doing—_ when he left her house last night there was a look in his eyes that’s burned into her memory: slightly desperate, concerned, a cold anger she feels like she’s only seen one other time and never wants to see again. Sometimes she forgets how dangerous he is, how vicious and cruel he can be—regardless of how he melts around her.

She sets the tea down on the table and lets out a soft sigh, drawing the blanket closer around her shoulders when she hears soft footsteps in the grass, crunching its way towards her. Her eyes flutter up and land on him, drawn to the navy-blue form fitting button-up that’s he’s wearing against his black jeans. There’s a joke somewhere in her chest about the fopaux of mixing blue and black together but it never leaves her mouth.

Rio watches her a moment before digging something out of his pocket. He reaches past her and sets…he sets a ring on the picnic table next to her tea mug. Beth stares at it a long time, like her brain has to catch up with what she’s seeing because of course she recognizes it.

And a very heavy weight feels like it drops from somewhere high and directly into her stomach.

Her eyes find Rio’s and he shrugs, “Won't be usin' his hand any time soon."

Beth’s hand automatically picks it up, runs her thumb along the edge and when she pulls back her skin is smeared with blood. The metal tumbles out of her fingertips and clatters onto the table, nearly rolling off and into the grass. She stands suddenly, the blanket slipping from her shoulders because _what the fuck?_

“I didn’t need you to take care of this like _that_ for me.”

He scoffs, instantly not willing to put up with this feedback from her. His face pinches a little, irritation blossoming on his face as he waves a hand at her to _stop_ that conversation right in its tracks, “Oh don't even start; this was about business.”

A laugh crawls it’s way out of her throat, “ _Business_?” She doesn’t believe him, not for one moment. He stares her, his hand moving to run along the lower half of his face, fingers in his scruff. “You did this because you thought I was some sort of… _damsel_ in distress.”

Rio narrows his eyes at her, visibly offended by the statement. “Oh that’s how I think about you, huh?” And alright, maybe she’s projecting pent up emotions—from Warez, from _Dean,_ but this…a bloody ring on her picnic table? Rio didn’t have to do this. “Where’s that lecture about bein’ partners? You don’t gotta always handle everything on your own.”

Beth swallows and for once she can’t look him in the eye because her lack of confidence in herself? How weak she felt crushed against that pavement while Warez towered over her? That’s not on Rio…and she shouldn’t be putting it on him either.

“And it _was_ about business, darlin’, not just about you. Warez was a bottom feeder who didn't respect deals or the people he made them with.”

_Was, was,_ he’s using past tense and while she wants to take a moment to let the gravity of what that means sink into her she can’t. She shakes her head, the conversation they had in the car right after their first meeting with Warez flooding back to her, “You told me not to worry about it. That he didn’t matter.”

Rio’s eyes zero in on her bruise and it’s like it lights a fire throughout his entire body because he takes a step towards her, his voice raising like the crackle of flames, “That was before he put his hands on you. It don’t have nothin’ to do with if you can handle yourself or not. But this?” He grabs her chin and won’t let her pull away. “Nah. No one does this, not to you.”

Beth stares up at him, holding his gaze for longer than she wants to, her eyes starting to sting as tears gather in the corners. He finally lets her go and she turns her head away from him, biting on the inside of her cheek so she doesn’t let her emotions overwhelm her. She lets out a shaky breath, moving to pick up the ring that he’s left on the picnic table.

Warez’s ring, stained in blood—she wants to ask what he’s done and yet…

What does it really say about them? That Rio’s willing to do something like this for her and that she's willing to accept it?

She doesn’t realize that a tear has tracked down her cheek until his hand is there, brushing it away as it stings the skin around her bruise. Silence blankets them for a few minutes before,

“You look tired, mami.”

Beth chokes out a laugh she doesn’t feel, fingers clutching the ring so tight that it nearly cuts the skin of her palm. “You know that’s one of the worst things you can tell a woman?”

There’s a ghost of a smile on Rio’s lips and his hand gently settles along her waist before he pulls her into his chest. The hug isn’t long but Beth presses her face into his shoulder, breathing in laundry detergent and cologne and _warm_ skin as his arm snakes around her back, the other fingering through her hair and scrubbing her scalp.

When he pulls away, his lips trace her hairline, his thumb once again brushing over that bruise.

“I know you’re not a damsel,” He tells her and like always, he sees her, reads the words printed under her skin that she told herself about being _weak, powerless, pathetic, crushed,_ “But if you want others to see that, _you_ need to believe it first. Boss bitch, remember?” He winks, pressing his thumb to her lips before turning to leave.

Rio looks over his shoulder as he walks out her yard, “I’ll see you tomorrow for my cut.”

Beth waits until he’s gone before gathering up the blanket and cold cup of tea, making her way inside…

and nearly dropping the mug onto the kitchen floor when she sees Dean standing at the sink, looking out the window above it. She stares at him, unsure of what to do, her heart in her throat because it’s _obvious_ he’s seen everything, has been watching them in the yard. Did he hear everything too?

And while part of her wants to ask, she doesn’t want to know why he didn’t storm out there, confront them, demand things from her and threaten to take everything all over again.

“Dean.” She says, sets the blanket on the chair near the fridge and the ring next to her glass of tea on the counter. “What are you doing here?”

He turns slowly and swallows, nodding his head at her.

“Jane forgot her dubby. I came back to get it.” Dean clears his throat, his eyes scanning the window and—“What was _he_ doing here? I thought you were done.”

“Money,” She says instantly. “Finished jobs and cuts I still had to hand over. He cares about getting his money.” She’s not even sure that makes sense but she’s too tired and too flustered to try and come up with a better excuse. Would Dean even believe her anyways?

Beth waits, waits for the other shoe to drop as his eyes fall onto the ring on the table. His eyebrows scrunch together a little, noticing the blood, rust colored and stark against the bright silver. Then something passes over his face, a realization that she doesn’t quite understand before he meets her eyes.

“He…take care of it?”

“What?” She asks, her voice raw.

“The…” Dean motions to her cheek. “The guy. The guy who tried to steal a car.”

Beth’s brain restarts because _oh,_ oh. She just…she nods, doesn’t know what else to say, is still waiting for Dean to lash out at her, to take her kids, to throw ‘I knew it’ into her face and take everything away from her all over again; that rug yanked out from under her feet.

But he doesn’t.

“Good.” He says suddenly, nodding his head and Beth’s mouth opens because.

Good.

Dean has _approved_ of Rio taking care of something for her. And even though he doesn’t have all the facts, even though the story is a little askew, he gets the gist…and there’s respect there that she still doesn’t understand.

He lifts his hand, intent on touching her cheek but doesn’t and chews on his lower lip before walking past her towards the front door, grabbing Jane’s dubby from the back of the TV couch. He pauses and turns to look at her as he steps over the threshold,

“It’s not just the money that he cares about, Beth.” And closes the door behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading and for the awesome requests I'm getting. Appreciate it all!


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